Vignettes
by Wyntir Rose
Summary: Several short stories exploring the relationship between Ratchet and Wheejack through the millenia. All future chapters to be posted seperately.
1. Chance Encounters

**Title:** Chance Encounters

**Rating:** T

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** Spike learns about how Ratchet and Wheeljack first met.

* * *

Spike sat on the edge of Ratchet's desk watching him fix Wheeljack. 

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?" Spike asked.

"I'm sure," Ratchet replied, as he worked on Wheeljack's burned chest.

Suddenly, Wheeljack began to chuckle. The movement caused Ratchet's hand to slip and he nearly fused two wires.

"Will you stop moving!" the medic snapped.

"Sorry," Wheeljack replied. "I was just remembering the first time you did this."

"Well remember more quietly. Unless you want me to damage your fuel pump."

"Is this how you two met?" Spike asked. "In an O.R.?

"E.R. actually," Wheeljack replied, ignoring the angry look that Ratchet shot him. "One of my early inventions backfired a little and I ended up in the hospital where Ratchet was interning."

"Backfired a little!" Ratchet cried, incredulously. "You blew up half the Engineering Centre in Iacon and sent hundreds to the hospital! It was a miracle that no one died!"

"Pffft!" Wheeljack snorted. "You said yourself that most of the damage was cosmetic. I got the brunt of it and even that was minimal. Lots of smoke, lots of noise, but nothing major."

"You and I have a very different definition of nothing major," Ratchet replied.

"Hundreds of people injured seems pretty serious to me," Spike said.

"Aw, Ratchet exaggerates it," Wheeljack replied, waving the whole thing off. Ratchet rolled his optics, but remained silent.

"What were you trying to make?" Spike asked.

"It was a power converter! It would have been great!" Wheeljack said, becoming excited. "It would have converted material waste into energy and then into energon!"

"Calm down!" Ratchet ordered, pushing Wheeljack back onto the table. "If you don't stop moving I'll disable your motor functions!"

"Yeah, but I was just telling –," Wheeljack protested.

"I know what you were telling Spike. I also know that if you don't stay still you may be permanently damaged. Now be quiet!" Ratchet growled.

Wheeljack sighed and lay back down on the table, obviously sulking. Ratchet remained silent, working on the engineer for quite some time while Spike watched. Finally Ratchet closed Wheeljack's chest and began working on his damaged arms.

"Are you really interested in how we first met?" Ratchet asked, not turning around.

"Sure!" Spike said.

"Okay," Ratchet remained silent for a time then began to speak softly.

"I was a brand new intern at the hospital in Iacon. I'd just graduated from the Academy and this was an incredibly prestigious position. It meant long hours, but –"

"But he got bragging rights," Wheeljack interrupted.

Ratchet shot him a dirty look before continuing.

"Anyway, I had just completed two back to back shifts. I was just on my way out when I was called back to work. There had been an explosion at the Engineering Centre and many of the casualties were coming to us. I'll admit I was more than a little angry." Ratchet shot an angry look at Wheeljack.

Wheeljack smiled and said, "I'd have been angry too if I'd had a date with Arclight."

"Be quiet or I'll disconnect your vocalizer!" Ratchet ordered, pointing a finger in Wheeljack's face.

"Who's Arclight?" Spike asked.

"Oh, she was something special!" Wheeljack said. "An EMT femme. Flyer. Incredible body-"

Ratchet reached over and pressed something to Wheeljack's neck. Suddenly the engineer's voice fell silent, but his 'head lights' continued to flash.

"Arclight was someone I knew long ago. She died in the war," Ratchet said, sadly.

"Oh," Spike said. " I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ratchet dismissed. "It was vorns ago." Ratchet's body language said that he was anything but fine. Still, he continued his story. "We had started getting the wounded in. Mostly the damage was cosmetic but there were a few serious cases. For half a shift I worked non-stop on patients. And just when it looked like I might be able to get to recharge, he came in." Ratchet glared at Wheeljack, who looked sheepish.

Ratchet completed the work on Wheeljack's arms and allowed him to sit up. Spike hid a smile when he noticed that Ratchet had failed to turn Wheeljack's voice back on.

"Anyway, 'Jack had been at the epicentre of the blast and the last to be found. We worked on him for hours before we stabilized him enough to get him to the OR."

Suddenly Wheeljack began frantically gesturing, his 'head lights' flashing. Ratchet glared at him with narrowed optics. Wheeljack covered his optics, then touched his mask, and then mimicked collapsing while pointing at Ratchet. Spike watches the strange game of charades and then it dawned on him.

"Ratchet passed out!" he laughed.

Wheeljack pointed to Spike with one hand and the tip of his nose with the other. Spike laughed at the human gesture and Ratchet hid his face in his hands.

"Yes. Fine," Ratchet said, glaring at the two. "I passed out in the E.R. I'd gone almost three earth days without a proper recharge. I was tired."

"And?" Spike prompted.

"And I ended up recovering in the only bed available, that just happened to be next to him." Ratchet pointed a thumb at Wheeljack.

"And then what?" Spike asked.

"And then nothing," Ratchet said. "Somehow after that we became friends. Now that's it. 'Jack, you're fine. Spike it's late. Both of you, out!"

Wheeljack stared at Ratchet pointedly. When he received no reaction he pointed at his throat.

"I don't know," Ratchet smiled. "I think I like you better this way."

Wheeljack just stared at Ratchet, hands on his hip struts.

"Fine," Ratchet laughed. He reached over and turned Wheeljack's voice back on.

"C'mon Spike," Wheeljack said, helping the human off the desk. "I'll take you home. Maybe I'll tell you a bedtime story about Ratchet and Arclight."

Wheeljack ducked as a tray flew past his head.


	2. Playtime

**Title:** Playtime

**Rating:** G

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** Wheeljack baby-sits little Daniel.

* * *

Ratchet stopped in front of the recreation room when he heard singing coming from within. 

"See is for cookie that's good enough for me, hmm, hmmm nummy yummy hmmm hmm hmmm nummy yum," a soft piping voice sang.

Ratchet stuck his head around the corner and had to stifle a laugh. Sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by a toy-block city, was little Daniel Witwicky. The five-year-old was busy pulling Oreos apart, eating the filling, and placing the chocolate wafers on top of his building project. As he worked, he sang happily.

Wheeljack sat on the floor nearby watching the whole process silently. Ratchet entered the room as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the human child.

"Babysitting duty again?" the medic asked.

"Yup," Wheeljack answered.

"You know Carly's going to kill you when she gets back, right?" Ratcet asked.

"Yeah, I know," Wheeljack replied. "But I just didn't have the heart to take them away. He really does like them. And he's having so much fun."

"Well I hope you feel the same way when you get to put him down tonight," Ratchet chuckled as he left the room.


	3. Regrets

**Title:** Regrets

**Rating:** T

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** In the early days of the Civil War Ratchet goes missing and it's up to Wheeljack to find out where he is and what's wrong.

* * *

"Hey, Ratch!" Wheeljack called as he knocked on Ratchet's door. "You in there, doc?" 

When he received no answer, he knocked again, a bit louder this time.

"He ain't there."

Wheeljack turned and found himself facing an older mech. Or rather, he was facing the mech's yellow and green chest.

"'Scuse me?" Wheeljack asked.

"He. Ain't. There," the mech replied in a slow drawl. "What're you? Slow'r somethin'"

"Uh, no …? I just wasn't sure I heard you right," Wheeljack replied, taking a step back from the large mech.

The stranger snorted and then reached out to finger Wheeljack's new Autobot sigil. Wheeljack backed up but the yellow and green mech stepped forward and he soon found himself backed up against Ratchet's door. He craned his neck to look up at the imposing mech.

"Uhm … is there something I can help you with?" he asked hesitantly.

"You went got yerself involved with that new Prime, didja?" the stranger asked. "You gonna get that nice doc involved in this?"

"Uhm … no?" Wheeljack replied, hoping that it was the answer that wouldn't get him turned into spare parts.

"Well okay then!" the stranger replied, slapping Wheeljack on the shoulder with enough force to send him sprawling to the deck.

"Sorry 'bout that. Ferget my own strength sometimes around you smaller mechs. Name's Hardpress. I'm the good doctor's neighbour," he said, providing a hand to help Wheeljack to his feet.

"So you lookin' fer the doc?" Hardpress asked. "He tore outta here a couple o' decacycles ago. He was in a big ole rush and had a face t' curdle fresh energon."

"Oh. … Did you see which way he went?" Wheeljack asked.

"Yeah I did," Hardpress said. "He went out."

"Uh, thanks?" Wheeljack replied, more confused than ever.

"No problem," Hardpress replied, returning to his own apartment. "Good luck with findin' him."

Left alone in the hall, Wheeljack shook his head in confusion, then headed out of the complex in search of his friend.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack started with the obvious places. Ratchet was a social mech and would likely seek companionship if he was in as bad a mood as Hardpress had suggested. The most logical place was The Repair Bay, a bar close to the Iacon Teaching Hospital. The war had not seriously damaged this area of the capital and it still had some of the shine of the Golden Age. If your blinders were firmly in place, you could even ignore the civil war that raged all around. Most of the bots in this area were still neutral, so the few who sported Autobot insignia were given strange looks.

He entered the bar hoping to find Ratchet, but found the place packed but the medic nowhere to be seen. He sighed and turned to leave but stopped when he spotted a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey Wheeljack!" Moonracer called, waving for him to come join her at a table.

"Well hi there, Moonracer," Wheeljack said, sitting across from her.

"What brings you to these parts?" Moonracer asked, smiling at him.

"Actually, I'm looking for Ratchet. You wouldn't happen to have seen him around, have you?" he asked

"I haven't seen him since his last shift," Moonracer replied thoughtfully, then she paused. "No, wait, that's not true … I think I may have seen him about a mega-cycle ago heading toward the Theatre District. But I was running off to meet with Highlight and was a bit distracted … I may be wrong about that."

"That's okay, 'Racer. It's a place to start," Wheeljack replied, patting her outstretched hand. He noticed her optics darken in a slight blush.

"So, uhm … do you have to go right away?" Moonracer asked. "Would you like to stick around for a drink or something?"

"If it was any other day I'd love to, but Ratchet's neighbour said that he was in a real bad mood," Wheeljack said. He saw Moonracer's smile fade. "But maybe another day?" he added quickly.

"Yeah, maybe," Moonracer replied. "Good luck finding him, 'Jack."

Wheeljack smiled at her and got up to leave. Hopefully he'd get another chance at that drink with Moonracer.

٭٭٭

Another half a mega-cycle had passed and Wheeljack was no closer to finding Ratchet. All the regular hangouts had been checked and now he was scraping the bottom of the barrel. It was not that he didn't trust Moonracer, but he had hoped she'd been mistaken. The Theatre District was one of the most dangerous areas one could go to in Iacon. It had once been beautiful, but quickly became a slum after the Civil War began. The once grand operas were dark and empty and debris littered the streets. The whole area had a depressing feel and Wheeljack felt his shoulders begin to bend under an invisible burden. This whole area sucked the life out of everyone.

While many of the bars that Wheeljack had searched in other areas had been busy and loud, there was an almost hysterical quality to the laughter, a panic in the dancing. Everywhere he looked, bots were fearful for their lives, and yet, only a scant few were doing anything. At least here, the bots he saw weren't deluding themselves into believing there was nothing wrong. In areas like this the only way to survive was to face reality head on.

Mechs and femmes alike walked the streets of the theatre district looking like empty shells of their former selves. This area was once the center of civilization, but now, a mech could find himself killed for a few energon goodies. Wheeljack dreaded the idea of finding Ratchet here.

As he looked around he suddenly had the feeling of being watched. He turned slowly and saw lightly built red and blue mech standing just in the shadows of a building a few feet behind him.

"I was wondering when you'd notice me," the mech said. His voice held the slight traces of the refined accent of the Crystal Towers .

"What do you want?" Wheeljack asked.

"Well now how's that for a greeting?" the mech pouted as he began to walk toward Wheeljack slowly. "I'm just here to offer up my services …"

"No thank you," Wheeljack replied. "I'm looking for someone."

"I'd say you found someone," the mech said softly, placing a pale blue hand on Wheeljack's arm.

Wheeljack pulled away carefully. "No offense, but I'm looking for someone in particular. White boxy mech, red cross on each shoulder, silver chevron. Have you seen him?"

"Possibly," the mech said. "But information will cost you. It'd be less if you were less … particular … in your tastes."

"What? … uh, no, it's not like that. I'm looking for my friend. I was told he may have come down here." Wheeljack fumbled in a pocket and pulled out a small picture cube. He flipped through a few shots before presenting one of Ratchet to the red and blue mech.

"I may have seen your 'friend', but as I said, information costs," the mech said.

Wheeljack sighed and put the picture away. "Fine, what do you want?"

"I'd ask you want you're offering, but something tells me that you have no clue how to haggle. So let's make this sporting," the mech said. "You give me one box of energon goodies and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"You tell me where my friend is and then I'll give you the food," Wheeljack countered.

The mech delicately arched an optic ridge. "This isn't negotiable. Food first, information after."

"… I'll give you half the box now, then you give me your information, then I give you the rest if it's worth it."

The mech shook his head and chuckled. "You're not backing down on this are you? Fine. Deal." He thrust out his hand to seal the deal.

Wheeljack shook the offered hand and provided the half box of goodies.

"He's in the Starfield, or at least he was about a mega-cycle ago," the mech said, holding out his hand for the rest of his pay.

Wheeljack looked the mech over. "What's you name?" he asked.

"That wasn't part of the deal. A name will cost you more. Now if you would be so kind as to hand over the rest of my pay?"

Wheeljack did as he was asked. The unnamed mech threw a mock salute at Wheeljack as he walked away.

"Pleasure doing business with you sir. Good luck finding your 'friend'," he said as he slipped into the shadows and disappeared.

٭٭٭

The Starfield. The place had once been the most high-end bar in Iacon. Situated in the heart of the theatre district, it had once been the meeting place of the rich and famous, frequented by all the bright lights of The Towers. Wheeljack had had the opportunity to come here a few vorns before the war started. He remembered that the matte black ceilings were dusted with precious stones from around the galaxy set to look like Cybertron's night's sky. The tables were of the finest stone and metal, and even the chairs were lushly upholstered. It was an opulence rarely seen on Cybertron, and Wheeljack remembered it as one of the great beauties of the Golden Age. Now the war had turned the whole area into a sinkhole and he doubted that the Starfield had survived untouched.

He entered the bar and was shocked by what he saw. While he had expected it to be a little worse for wear, he hadn't expected the hole that he stepped into. The once refined décor was now dull and tarnished, the ceiling was cracked and pitted, and everything was coated with a thick layer of ash and dust. Even the staff looked broken, moving like they had given up on everything. Every step was just like the one before, mechanical and rehearsed. These were bots who were here because they had nowhere else to go and knew no other life. Even the few patrons were downtrodden. There was a time when the air in here was filled with music and laughter. Now it was all but silent. The scraping of chairs, the shuffling of feet, the clink of cubes as they hit the tables, were the only sounds now.

Wheeljack approached the bartender to ask about Ratchet when he saw his friend hiding in a booth in the darkest corner of the bar. In the bleak atmosphere and dim lights his white paint seemed to shine like a beacon, announcing his presence to everyone. The medic was sitting with his back to the wall nursing a cube of high-grade. Judging by the empty containers on the table, this was not his first drink of the night, and Wheeljack wagered it wouldn't be his last either. He walked slowly up to the table and slid in next to his friend.

"Hey, doc," Wheeljack greeted.

"Hm? Oh, hi 'Jack," Ratchet replied.

"So what's the deal? I heard that you were asked to meet with the new Prime," Wheeljack asked.

"Yup," Ratchet replied. He drained his glass and motioned for another.

"And?" Wheeljack prompted.

"And we met," Ratchet said.

A pretty young femme came to deliver Ratchet's new drink and take away the empty glasses. She smiled shyly at the white medic, tilted her head coquettishly and made her intent obvious. Judging from her build, Wheeljack guessed that she was a flyer, and he noticed Ratchet noticing her, but then he seemed to deflate further and she left the table and Ratchet to his melancholy.

"Okay … so is there a reason why you're being so difficult, Ratch'?"

"I'm not being difficult. You asked me a question and I answered it," Ratchet replied sullenly. He lifted his glass in a silent toast, drained it, and stood to leave.

"Oh no you don't," Wheeljack said, standing up and taking Ratchet by the elbow. "You're not going anywhere on your own, and certainly not in this state,"

Ratchet shot Wheeljack a dirty look. "I'm fine, Wheeljack. I don't need any help getting back to my place."

He turned to walk away, swaying dangerously on his feet. Wheeljack followed his friend closely, making it obvious that he was not going to leave him alone.

"What do you want Wheeljack," Ratchet snapped, as they exited The Starfield.

"I want to make sure you're okay. It's not like you to drink alone."

"Well that's nice. Another bot telling me who I am and what I'm like," Ratchet stormed as he walked unsteadily away.

Wheeljack stopped and stared after his friend. "What in the Pit is going on, Ratchet? You go to see the new Prime and now you're drinking yourself into a stupor. And taking it out on me. What is your problem?"

Ratchet spun and managed to collapse against a wall before steadying himself.

"How precisely did you know that I had a meeting with Prime?" Ratchet shouted.

"I … What?! Bumblebee told me. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Who the slag is Bumblebee?! … Look, never mind. What's wrong is none of your business. In fact, there's nothing wrong. Now leave me alone!" Ratchet turned and walked unsteadily away.

Wheeljack sighed and followed his friend.

٭٭٭

Ratchet got up to the door of his apartment and began fumbling with the key card. Every swipe was off, and it was obvious that he was becoming frustrated. Wheeljack stepped in and laid a hand on Ratchet's arm.

"Here, let me at least help you get inside," Wheeljack said softly, taking the card from Ratchet's hand.

Ratchet slumped against the wall of the corridor. As soon as the door was open, he entered the darkened room and headed straight to the dispenser. He ordered a cube of high-grade and threw himself on the couch.

"Well, you may as well come in," he grumbled to Wheeljack.

Wheeljack stepped into the apartment, turned on the lights and looked around. The room was a mess. Normally Ratchet kept his space neat and organized, but today it looked like a storm had blown through. Medical journals, art, and energon containers were strewn around; some thrown to the floor while others had been shattered against walls. Even the furniture had been tossed about. As Wheeljack stepped over the mess, he noticed that there were only two things that were still in place. One was Ratchet's certification and the other was a picture cube.

Wheeljack stopped in front of this and watched as videos flashed across its surface. There was Ratchet graduating from the Academy, first in his class. Another was of Ratchet and Arclight dancing in a club, both lost to the music and each other. The next was of Arclight at the provincial fencing championships, taking second place. Wheeljack recognized her opponent as a young tactician named Prowl. There was a candid shot of Ratchet and Arclight sharing a tender moment. And last there was a shot of Ratchet pouring over medical journals, oblivious to the fact that he was being filmed.

Wheeljack turned to his friend slowly.

"What happened, Ratchet?" Wheeljack asked softly.

Ratchet stood and finished his glass. "She was on the Stormchaser. It was an incredible opportunity, and she was going to be back in a couple of stellars. … You know we were going to be bonded when she got back …" Ratchet trailed off, then, in an uncharacteristic act of anger, he threw the cube violently against the wall and collapsed back on the couch.

"What happened, Ratch'?" Wheeljack repeated.

"I just got word today. The Stormchaser was lost. Their last message was a request for help. They were being chased by the Decepticons. All hands are presumed lost," Ratchet said, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh, Primus! I'm so sorry," Wheeljack whispered as he sat down next to his friend.

After a long time of silence Ratchet looked up. "I … I'm sorry I was taking it out on you. … You just showed up at a bad time. First I heard about Arclight, and then the meeting with Prime. … I guess it was all just too much."

"Okay, what happened with Prime?" Wheeljack asked, confused.

"He asked me to join the Autobots. … I know, it doesn't seem like much, but I swore I was going to stay out of this," Ratchet said, standing up and walking over to the dispenser.

"C'mon, Ratch'. You've had enough. Just come back here and talk to me," Wheeljack pleaded.

Ratchet sighed and put the drink down. He turned and leaned against the counter.

"It doesn't seem like much, does it?" Ratchet asked. Wheeljack took the question as rhetorical and remained silent.

"You're the best tool and die mech on Cybertron, Ratchet. We need your help if we're going to end this," Ratchet continued in a passable imitation of Prime's speech pattern.

"Here's the thing," Ratchet continued, in his own voice, "I had promised that I wouldn't get involved. I'm a medic, slag-it! I can't take sides. It would go against everything that I stand for. I swore that I would remain a conscientious objector if I was ever put into that situation. I mean, being an Autobot seems fine for you but I … Arclight and I were going to stay out of it."

Ratchet slid to the floor and cradled his head in his hands. Wheeljack found himself fingering his new Autobot insignia thoughtfully.

"But when the moment came, all I could think of was the Decepticons destroying the Stormchaser. It was a ship full of refugees. It had no military value. And they destroyed it. … When Prime asked me to join all I could think was that I wanted every single Decepticon dead. Now how's that for a medic?" Ratchet asked.

Wheeljack moved to sit down beside his friend, placing a comforting arm over his shoulder.

"It's the response of a mech in pain," Wheeljack said softly. "Honestly, I wouldn't expect anything else, and no one will ever fault you for it."

"I suppose," Ratchet replied. "But I can't help thinking that this decision means the end of something."

"Yeah, but all ending are beginnings too," Wheeljack said, standing up. "Now let me help you up. You've got to sleep off all that high-grade."

Ratchet accepted a hand up and into his sleeping chamber.

"How much did I drink?" Ratchet asked as he lay down on his berth. "I'm a little fuzzy about that."

"More than I ever knew one mech could. Remind me to never take you on in a drinking contest," Wheeljack laughed softly.

He turned on the recharger and left the room, intent upon cleaning up the main living area. Ratchet would regret the night enough without waking up to this mess.


	4. It's not lost

**Title:** It's not lost, I just don't know where it is!

**Rating:** G

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** Wheeljack's got a filing system … now if he could only find here he put it.

* * *

"Well I'm sure it's in here somewhere," Wheeljack huffed. 

"Oh really?" Ratchet replied. "You mean like you thought it was in the last five boxes?"

"Well, no, I wasn't sure about those. But I am sure about this one … or is it that one?" Wheeljack muttered looking at one of the many crates that lined the walls of his apartment.

Ratchet shook his head and snorted. "You're impossible, you know that?" he said. "You've been in here for a full stellar and you still haven't unpacked these boxes. How do you find anything?"

"I've got a system," Wheeljack replied. "I know where everything is."

"Oh really?" Ratchet replied sceptically. "Then where are the spanners you were looking for last cycle? Or the coils you misplaced last orn?"

"Yeah, well that was different!" Wheeljack cried indignantly.

"Okay, you keep telling yourself that," Ratchet said. "In the meantime, let's keep looking for those tickets and maybe we'll actually get to the show before it ends."


	5. Lost Opportunities

**Title:** Lost Opportunities

**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Implied Slash

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** Wheeljack watches a dance and contemplates lost chances.

* * *

I watch them dance, bodies close, arms entwined, gazing deeply into each other's optics, and I can't help but feel sad, feel that something has passed me by. I try to push these feeling far to the back of my processor. If I don't acknowledge them, then maybe they're not real. But every time I think I'm over him, every time I think I can move on with my life, there he is. 

I tell myself that I should be happy for him. She's good for him. She balances his moods, she lightens his darker side, and in return, he grounds her. I know that she can give him something that I never could. I should feel happy for them. Even their colour schemes match. His white and red, her grey and blue. The colours seem to dance as they cross the floor, creating a beautiful palette of light and dark. It's like they were made for each other. I can't let my feelings deprive them of whatever happiness they can find in this time of uncertainty.

So I push my feelings to the side. I tell myself that I'll be happy just having him in my life, even if it is as a friend. I tell myself that I'll keep to the side, let them have their life, and just be happy in the knowledge that he's happy. I keep telling myself these things over and over, and yet, the pain I feel when I see them together never lessens.

I feel like I've lost something. That maybe if I had acted on my feelings on that first day we met things would have been different. That maybe … maybe … maybe I'm just fooling myself. I've never had the courage to come out and say it. I've never been able to get myself to act on my feelings. I always waited hoping that he'd make the first move. And he did, only the move was toward her. … I can't fault him. He's a medic not a mind reader. And I can't hate her for it. After all, he was never mine to lose.

So I sit here, feeling like I'm on the outside looking in. I watch them dance and I try to be happy for him.


	6. Waiting

**Title:** Waiting

**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Implied Slash

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** When Wheeljack is recovering from a nearly fatal accident, Ratchet gets comfort from an unlikely source.

* * *

I sat beside him for hours just waiting for any kind of sign. The surgery had taken far too long and frankly, I was worried. More worried than I was letting anyone know. Finally I just couldn't stand to see him lying there, so quiet and still. I just had to get away, so I hid myself in my office. I was still in the med bay, so I'd be right there if something changed, but I could try to busy myself, try to take my mind off Wheeljack and the machines that were helping him live. 

I stared at my data pads trying to fill my time with busy work, but my mind always strayed back to the ICU. Being here didn't help; being there didn't help. All I wanted to do was lock myself in my quarters and get plastered. Of course, they were in the med bay, so I wouldn't be getting away then either. And an over-charged Ratchet didn't help anyone. My mood just got darker and darker the longer Wheeljack was on life support. And the darker it got, the louder the high grade called.

I suppose that it didn't help any that I was alone in all this. Most people were smart enough to stay away when my moods got dark. Most people knew that being near me when Wheeljack was in the ICU was a bad idea. So I was amazed when Sunstreaker sauntered into my office. He of all people knew better.

"What do you want?" I growled.

"Nothin'," he shrugged.

"Then get out. I'm busy and I don't need you loitering around. I see enough of you and that damn twin of yours as it is," I said, refusing to look up.

"Really?" he asked. "You don't look busy. In fact, I'd bet you've been staring at that same data pad for at least the last half hour."

I refused to acknowledge him. Maybe if I ignored him he'd go away. And maybe petro-rabbits would fly.

Sunstreaker came into my office, spun a guest chair around and straddled it, crossing his arms over the back.

"What do you want Sunstreaker?" I asked, hoping my exasperated tone would make him go away.

He just looked at me for the longest time. He didn't say a thing, just stared at me. Finally, when I was just about ready to throw him out bodily he looked away and pulled two cubes of energon from subspace.

"Here," he said, handing me one. "Trust me, you're going to need it."

"I don't need any high grade," I said, ignoring the proffered cube.

"It's not high grade, it's just energon. You look like you need it," he said, offering the cube again.

I looked at him, searching his face for any signs of a trick. True, this was Sunstreaker not Sideswipe, but that didn't mean I had to trust this seeming compassion. I only saw concern in his deep blue optics, so I reached out and took the cube.

"He's hurt badly, but you're the best we've got and he'll be fine. He always is," Sunstreaker said with a nod toward the ICU.

I took a good hard look at the mech across from me. He looked like Sunstreaker. He even sounded like Sunstreaker. But this wasn't Sunstreaker. "All right, where's the pod?" I asked.

"What?" he asked clearly confused.

"Never mind," I said, "Look, Sunstreaker, you never come here unless your brother's in, so you'll forgive my … what do you want, Sunstreaker?" I asked. I was in no mood for whatever game this was.

"You know, Sideswipe has been in there more times than I care to remember. There are days when I feel like this may as well be my quarters," he said with a sigh. He sipped his energon thoughtfully before continuing. "I know what it's like to have someone you love lying there and there's nothing you can do about it except wait."

"Yeah, I guess you do," I said taking a sip. My tank grumbled a little. I hadn't realized just how low on fuel I was.

"You just … have to trust that you did everything you could and that 'Jack's gonna pull through," Sunstreaker said, finishing his cube and tossing it into the trash. "You're the best medic I've ever seen. And Wheeljack? He has to be the most stubborn mech ever created. As impressive as that explosion was, it'll take more than that to take him out."

"It was impressive wasn't it?" I chuckled grimly. "I will never understand why that mech insists on making inventions that he knows are going to blow up."

"Because he can. It's the same reason why Sideswipe keeps insisting on pushing Prowl's buttons," Sunstreaker said.

We sat in companionable silence for a time as I drank my energon. After a while, Sunstreaker reached out and laid his hand on mine.

"Hey, doc?" he said. "Do me a favour and try to remember something. We've all been through this and there's no reason why you have to go through it alone, okay? Trust me, I know how it can eat you up if you try to shoulder it all by yourself."

I looked at Sunstreaker. This was a very different side of him. It was far too easy to see him simply as the bravo he pretended to be and forget that there is a mech underneath. I'd be tempted to say a sensitive artist, but that would be pushing it.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"Don't mention it," he replied as he stood up. "I mean it. Don't mention it ever. If you do I'll deny it. I have a reputation to keep up," he added with a wink as he left my office.


	7. Bad Day

**Title:** Bad Day  
**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Implied Slash

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** Ratchet and Wheeljack get caught behind enemy lines in the early days of the civil war on Cybertron.

* * *

"SLAG!" Wheeljack cursed as he jumped behind the bulkhead of a blasted out transport, Seeker fire missing his head by bare inches. 

"Will you stay down?!" Ratchet cried, pulling Wheeljack further down under the bulkhead.

"But my invention is out there! The 'Cons'll get it!"

"Yeah, and if they kill us they'll get it too!" Ratchet growled. "Ratchet to Base! Come in! … Ratchet to Base!"

"_This is Blaster commin' at ya! What's the sitch, doc?"_ Blaster asked

"Blaster! We're pinned down in sector Draxis-259. We need backup or an evac now!" Ratchet cried over the explosions and Seeker laughter.

"_Why're you in the Dead Zone? Never mind. 'M sorry, buddy, but we can't help right now! We're up to our vents in 'Cons over here. You think you can find a hidey-hole fer about an orn?"_

"What? No! We're- SLAG!" Ratchet yelled as his signal was interrupted and he was hit with feedback. "We're being jammed, Jack."

"Figured as much. That's a Comm officer up there on the roof," Wheeljack said, motioning toward a nearby building and the green Decepticon who stood atop it. "And if he's here then he's got his blasted micro-bots with him too."

"Right, so we can't stay here. And we can't let them get your invention. … What is it anyway?" Ratchet asked, ducking a low shot.

"It converts matter to energon," Wheeljack replied, taking a quick and wild shot at one of the Seekers.

"Great, we really can't let them get that. … and we can't get out there to get it, so …" Ratchet broke off and began firing at the box sitting in the middle of the battlefield.

"What in the Pit are you doing?!" Wheeljack shrieked, grabbing Ratchet's arm.

"We can't get out there and we can't let them get it. You've got the plans in your processor. This is the only thing we can do!" Ratchet said, firing at the small box again. On his third try he hit it dead on and the box exploded in a blinding flash of light.

"Come on!" Ratchet yelled, grabbing Wheeljack and pulling him along behind him.

٭٭٭

"Slag!" Red Eye yelled. "Where'd they go? What happened t' th' box?"

"The medic shot it," Backdraft said. He flicked a piece of debris off his shoulder, a look of disgust plastered on his refined features.

"What was it anyways?" Downburst asked, poking at the remains with a delicate blue hand.

"Hmph … it could have been a box o' slargs fer all I know. Ye'd think that we were th' enemy th' way those upper echelon troops keep information from us," Red Eye grunted, nodding in the direction of the Comm Officer.

"Listen up Seekers, we have new orders!" Frequency called down from the roof. "Find the medic and the engineer. Command wants them alive for questioning!"

"Any other orders, boss?" Downburst asked.

"Nope. And the exact wording was that _He_ wants them alive and able to answer questions. Follow the orders to the letter, and have fun, boys!" Frequency said before turning away to visually scan the area.

"Hmph! Maybe we'll get some fun outta this yet. C"mon, lads! Let's find our wayward Autobots," Red Eye said.

"Yeah, this is a dangerous neighbourhood," Backdraft snickered. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to them."

"Here, Autobots! C'mon out and we'll give you a nice escort home!" Downburst laughed.

"Hey, bro, if that works I'll give you half my rations for the week," Backdraft chuckled.

"Lads, c'mon, let's try t' take this seriously," Red Eye said, "at least fer as long as Frequency's here," he added in a whisper.

The two other Seekers smothered their laughter and began their search for the two Autobots.

٭٭٭

Ratchet and Wheeljack had just enough time to get into a burned out building before the flash from the explosion dissipated. They sat is the darkness trying to be as silent as possible as the Decepticons began to search the area. Ratchet pulled back further into the shadows as the tall black Seeker casually glanced into the building. Somehow he didn't notice Ratchet's bright white paint and continued on his way. Once it seemed clear, Wheeljack got up and began to look around the room frantically.

"We can't stay here," he whispered. "There has to be a hatch leading to the maintenance tunnels here somewhere. Help me find it."

"What does it look like? What am I looking for?" Ratchet asked.

"I don't know. It's a door, or a hatch, or maybe a portal. It'll probably be in the floor … or in the walls," Wheeljack replied, looking under a box. "It might be in the ceiling, but I doubt it."

"Oh. Well that narrows it down. Thanks," Ratchet said, shaking his head.

"Quit griping and help me look," Wheeljack said.

The two moved the debris as quickly and quietly as possible, occasionally ducking behind a box to avoid the gaze of a Seeker.

"Found it!" Wheeljack crowed, far too loudly.

"Shhh!" Ratchet hissed.

"It came from over there!" a voice cried from outside.

"Here Autobots! We promise we won't hurt you too badly!" another voice laughed.

"Am I th' only one takin' this seriously?" a third, lilting voice asked, sounding very close to the door.

Together Wheeljack and Ratchet pulled open the hatch in the floor, wincing as the old hinges shrieked in protest. The door opened partway then refused to budge.

"Well, that'll never shut again," Wheeljack muttered before heading down into the opening in the floor. "This seems deeper than I would have figured," he added when his feet didn't touch bottom. He let go and plunged into darkness.

Ratchet heard a short yelp followed by a splash and the clatter of metal striking metal.

"Jack? Jack! Are you okay?" Ratchet called down, ignoring the sound of the Seekers approaching the building.

"Yeah, but it's about an 80 foot drop," Wheeljack called up from the darkness.

Suddenly the door burst open and Ratchet jumped down the hole, letting out a string of obscenities as he fell.

٭٭٭

"Primus damn it!" Backdraft yelled, looking into the hole with distaste. "I will _not_ go down into the sewers!"

"And would ye like t' be th' one t' explain that t' Him?" Red Eye asked, his voice dripping with scorn.

"No," Backdraft replied petulantly, "but can't we just tell Him that we lost them?"

"Oh, an' tha' would go over much better," Red Eye said rolling his optics.

"Yeah, but –" Backdraft's argument was cut off by Downburst's laughter.

"What's so funny?" Red Eye asked, turning on his wing-mate.

"You two! That's what's so funn-eh!" Downburst laughed, mocking Red Eye's accent. "Oh, come on! Am I the only one who's actually following the ground war?"

"Yes," both Red Eye and Backdraft said together.

Downburst crossed his arms and looked at his wing-mates in disbelief.

"I don't believe you two!" he said. "Alright, fine, you only care about the sky war. I'll make this simple so I don't bore you. The ground troops took out this area on purpose since it's got a direct line to HQ."

"What? It's not a direct line," Backdraft said clearly confused.

"Yeah, not from up here," the blue and gold Seeker said, stamping his foot on the ground.

Suddenly the light of dawning realization filled Red Eye's optics. "The tunnel only leads one way!"

"And we have understanding!" Downburst cried, raising his arms to the heavens.

"Very funny. Just fer that you don't get t' come Autobot huntin' with me," Red Eye said.

"I still don't get it," Backdraft said.

"The tunnel only leads to HQ, brother," Downburst said, patiently. "In their attempt to evade us, the Autobots have trapped themselves."

"Exactly! Now you two follow the tunnel up here towards HQ. Find a good ambush spot an' I'll herd th' medic an' th' engineer to ye," Red Eye said.

"Sounds fine by me, especially if it means I don't need to go down there," Backdraft said, turning toward the door.

"Jes remember that before ye start complainin' about boredom. It might take me a while to get them properly motivated," Red Eye said as he lowered himself into the hole in the floor.

٭٭٭

Ratchet and Wheeljack ran through the ankle deep liquid that covered the tunnel floor, racing away from the sound of harsh Seeker laughter. The tunnel, for all its height, wasn't wide enough for either Bot to transform. While it was a problem for the two Bots it would be more of a problem for the Seekers, with their wide wingspan in both robot and alternate mode.

"We have to slow down! We can't just run from them," Ratchet said stopping suddenly.

"Have you lost your mind?" Wheeljack asked, turning back to face Ratchet. "Even together we're no match against one Seeker, let alone three, and you want to slow down?"

"We're making too much noise. Plus, we have no idea of where we are or where we're going," Ratchet explained. "We need to find a hiding place, or a branch, or something."

"Fine, okay," Wheeljack said, "but we still have to hurry. I've got no desire to be on the receiving end of a Decepticon interrogation."

They walked quickly down the tunnel, being more careful about splashing, both searching for access hatches or anywhere to hide.

"Most of these tunnels were built along the same lines, with access panels at regular intervals," Wheeljack whispered. "We should be coming across one soon. … Unless they were built into the floor," he added, his head fins flashing an embarrassed pink.

"Great …," Ratchet muttered as he followed Wheeljack down the tunnel.

٭٭٭

Red Eye followed the trail the Autobots were leaving. The space was limited and it slowed his progress, be he was in no rush. After all, they had nowhere to go but straight into His waiting arms. Judging by the sounds coming from further up the tunnel it was obvious that the Autobots had finally grasped their predicament and had slowed. They were probably looking for a hiding place, but if Downburst was right, there was nowhere for them to hide. Red Eye laughed out loud at the thought and was pleased at the sharp echo. It was time to instil some fear in these two.

"Ye can't hide from us!" he yelled. "I know exactly where ye are, so why don't ye make this easier on all of us?"

It wasn't exactly true. He knew they were further up the tunnel, but there was something about this sector that interfered with his sensors. Not that he needed them. He was a skilled enough tracker that he could have found these Autobots in the dark with his optics closed. Also, if he couldn't see them, then they couldn't see him, and that must have had them petrified. As far as they knew, they were being chased by all three Seekers, Frequency and all his microbots. That was exactly the fear that he hoped to instil in them. By the time he was done, the Autobots wouldn't know up from down.

"Here, Autobots!" he cried out, "You can run but ye can't hide! Give us what we want and we'll be … gentle." He ran a clawed hand down the wall, creating a marvellous shriek of protesting metal.

Suddenly the few lights that illuminated the tunnel turned off with an audible snap and a cry filled the darkness.

"Frag," Red Eye whispered.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack had been leading the way down the tunnel when the lights had gone off and Ratchet cried out in shock and surprise. His cry had been cut off suddenly followed by a loud crack. He spun around and shone his lights at the area where Ratchet had stood moments before, only to find the tunnel empty. There was a soft hissing of air behind him, but he received no further warning before a strong arm snaked around his neck, pulling him backwards.

"Shh! You won't be hurt but you need to cooperate and be quiet. Understand?" a voice whispered. As the voice spoke he felt lips brush the back of one head fin and a slightly smaller mech pressed tightly up against his back.

Wheeljack nodded as much as the arm around his neck would allow. The grip didn't lessen at all and he felt himself being pulled closer to the mech behind him and another arm snake around his waist. Then, suddenly, he was let go and sent sprawling to the floor.

"Where's Ratchet?" he asked quietly, rolling over and peering into the darkness.

"He's here and fine," said a familiar voice, one that had a hint of the Towers in it. "I'm glad that you found your _friend_ in one piece."

The strange red and blue mech who had helped him find Ratchet all those months ago stepped out of the shadows.

"You? I didn't expect to ever see you again," Wheeljack said, getting up.

"If you had the sense to stay out of dangerous sectors we never would have met again," the other mech said. He pulled out a small disruptor pistol and motioned toward Wheeljack's side. "Now, be kind enough to provide me with your weapon."

"What's going on?" Wheeljack asked, narrowing his optics.

"That's not for me to say. Now just do as you're told and you'll be fine," the mech said. "The gun, please. And don't try anything stupid. You might get me, but the others will get you."

"What others?" Wheeljack asked, looking around.

The mech sighed. "If you don't believe they're there, then go ahead and try something. … No? Then hand over the weapon, please."

Wheeljack pulled his gun from its holster and handed it over.

"Good," said the mech. "Now head down that way." He motioned down the tunnel with his pistol.

Wheeljack complied, examining this new tunnel. Unlike the one he had just left, this one was dry, wide enough for two medium sized mechs to walk side by side, and the ceiling was much lower, maybe forty feet high.

"So … Where are we going?" he asked conversationally.

His captor didn't reply he simply prodded the engineer gently in the back with the pistol.

"Do you have a name at least? I'd like to know who my captor is," Wheeljack said.

"I seem to recall telling you once that names cost, and you're in no position to pay me," the mech said.

"Well I can't just call you 'Hey You'. You've got to be called something, don't you?" Wheeljack asked.

"If names are that important, then you can call me anything you like," the mech said.

"Right, so how about Blue?" Wheeljack said. "So, Blue, where are we going?"

Blue didn't respond he just poked Wheeljack in the back a little more forcefully.

Wheeljack sighed inwardly and continued on the designated path. After several minutes of walking, they arrived at a blank metal door.

"Open it. Push, don't pull," his captor instructed.

Beyond the door was a short, inclining tunnel leading to a large, domed room. Stadium seating lined the walls and a large podium sat in the middle, illuminated by a single beam of light coming from the ceiling. It was obvious from even a cursory glance that this area had not been used in a long, long time. Four doors led out of the room, one in each of the cardinal directions. From the northern door came Ratchet. Like Wheeljack, he had an armed escort, but apparently he had put up a fight because his hands were in binders and he had a nasty gash below his left optic.

"Ratch! You okay?" Wheeljack called out.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ratchet bit out, glaring at his captors.

"I would appreciate it if you were both silent," came a voice from the darkness beyond the pedestal.

A silver-grey mech stepped into the light and leaned against the pedestal.

"We've asked you here because you have something we need," the mech said.

"Asked us here? Abducted is more like it!" Ratchet said, outraged.

The silver-grey mech waved dismissively in the medic's direction. "If he talks again, shoot him. He's not the one we wanted anyway."

"What?!" both Ratchet and Wheeljack cried. Ratchet closed his mouth quickly as six high-powered rifles were brought to bear on him.

"We actually need you, Engineer," the silver-grey said, stepping forward. "Or rather we need something you have."

"What?!" Wheeljack asked. "What do you want?"

"May I speak to you in private?" the mech said. "You're friend will be fine as long as he behaves himself. And I'm sure he will."

"We can talk here," Wheeljack replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It appears that I didn't make myself clear," the mech said. "I _will_ speak with you in private."

Six guns were made ready to fire at Ratchet.

"Alright, fine!" Wheeljack said quickly, raising his hands. "We can talk anywhere you like, just tell your guys to lay off."

"Wonderful!" the silver-grey said. "Go through that door and I'll be right with you."

With a last look at Ratchet, Wheeljack moved off through the indicated door. Once he was completely out of site, the silver-grey approached Ratchet.

"I had heard reports that you were quite the firecracker, but I didn't believe it until now. I'm going to make this very clear, because there's no point in having lies between us," he said, running his hand over the side of Ratchet's face. "I had planned on using you as leverage to get what I want from the Engineer, but if you put up any more of a fuss I will kill you. And I can assure you that not only will I prolong it as long as possible, but I will make it very, very painful. You're not the only one who knows exactly where to hit to make it hurt." With stunning speed, the silver-grey jabbed a finger into a gap between Ratchet's neck and shoulder, sending the medic to the floor gasping in pain.

"I trust I've made myself clear," the silver-grey said, turning away and exiting the room.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack found himself in a well-appointed office. A large metal desk sat in the middle of the room with a large chair behind it and two smaller guest chairs in front. Shelves lined the walls, all filled with datapads and various art pieces. It was truly beautiful, but Wheeljack had the feeling that if he were to scratch the surface veneer he'd find something rotten beneath.

"I'm glad we have the opportunity to speak in private," the strange mech said, entering the room. "First, let us make introductions. My people call me Argent. Please, have a seat. I'd offer you a cube of high-grade, but I'm afraid we've been in short supply of late."

"What do you want?" Wheeljack asked. He remained standing.

"Right to the point, I see," Argent said, sitting in the large chair. "Here's the situation, Wheeljack. My people and I are neutrals. We have no desire to get involved in your war, and yet, the Decepticons are constantly harassing us."

"That's because there can't be neutrals in this war. The Decepticons won't allow it; you're either with them or against them," Wheeljack said stiffly.

"Well, that's not quite true," Argent said, steepling his fingers. "Are you sure you won't change your mind about the seat?"

"I'm sure," Wheeljack said, firmly.

"Oh well. As I was saying, the Decepticons are fully willing to leave us alone if we're able to present them with something to make it worth their while," Argent said.

"And you're going to give them me and Ratchet?" Wheeljack asked.

"Hardly," Argent snorted. "No, what they want is that box of yours. I'm guessing that you either have it or the plans in your possession. Otherwise the Decepticons wouldn't be combing the underground for you. You're going to give me the device and I will let you go in Autobot territory."

Wheeljack remained silent for a long time. Ratchet had been right that his invention had been far too dangerous to fall into 'Con hands. He wasn't about to hand it over to anyone, let alone these unknown neutrals. But he also realized that they had no chance of escaping on their own.

"Look, I'll make it simple for you, Wheeljack. If you don't give me the plans I'll kill Ratchet right in front of you. And if that doesn't convince you then I have several people who will happily delve into your memory core and pull the information forcibly," Argent said. He could have been talking about the weather for all the emotion he showed.

"I … I can't give you what you want. But if you're worried about your safety then come with us to Iacon. I'm sure you can come up with an agreement with Prime," Wheeljack said.

"That's not going to happen," Argent said sadly. "I think you might change your mind in time. Especially considering that I _will_ get what I want with your cooperation or without it." He stood and opened the office door. "You may as well head back out. I do believe we're done here for the moment."

٭٭٭

Red Eye continued to move through the tunnels slowly, searching for any sign of the missing Autobots. There were rumours among the lower ranked ground troops that this area was haunted. None of the Seekers believed it, but it was true that there were some mysterious disappearance of supplies and equipment in this area. Red Eye suspected that there was a nest of Neutrals somewhere nearby.

He stopped dead in his tracks and thought about the possibility of Neutrals. The Autobots had disappeared without a trace. Neutrals would know this area like the backs of their scraplet-crusted hands and would likely be smart enough to figure out that the Decepticons were after the two Autobots. It was time to make a gamble.

"I'm here fer th' Autobots and I'm empowered t' make a deal fer them," he called out into the darkness.

His words echoed on the walls, but there was no other response.

"I know yer out there and I know ya have the Autobots. I _can _make a deal and I _can_ make this very much worth yer while."

There was a dull scraping noise and a soft splash from behind him. Red Eye turned around slowly, nonchalantly.

"You've caught our interest, Seeker," a voice called out of the darkness. The word seeker was dripping with scorn.

"Tell me where to go then," Red Eye said.

"You stay right there. I'll be acting as intermediary until we're sure we can trust you," the voice said.

"Very well," Red Eye said, sounding bored.

"We have the plans for the device you seek. We will provide them to you on the condition that you move out of this area," the voice said.

"That's not likely t' be happenin'," Red Eye said. "We happen t' like this sector."

"No, this sector is of strategic importance to you. You don't think that we're dumb enough to not realize that this is a direct path to your door?" the voice said. "Our deal is as follows. We give you the plans and we keep this sector guarded from invasion. In return you leave us alone."

"You know, we could just take the plans," Red Eye said.

"Unlikely," the voice scoffed. "If you could do that you wouldn't be talking to me right now. And don't tell me that you're just one mech. I know full well that you and your trine mates failed to catch the Autobots before. What chances do you think you have against us? Especially when your external sensors don't work."

Red Eye took all this in. He could turn this to his advantage, get the plans and then come back and destroy these Neutrals. But he couldn't appear too eager. And he wanted the pot sweetened. He would be in for a glossa-lashing when he got back to base if he didn't have something good to show for his time.

"The plans aren't enough, I'm afraid. Not fer what yer suggestin'"

"Alright then," the voice said. "We can throw in the Engineer as well, but that sweetens the pot a bit too much. We'll need you to look the other way if a few of your supplies go missing."

"We're not about t' be supplyin' a bunch o' Neutrals. If you want a meal an' shelter then you'll have t' join th' cause," Red Eye replied.

"If this device is what we both suspect it is, then you 'Cons will be rolling in fuel. You'll hardly need to worry about a few cases going missing."

"Uh, yeah, that's true. But this deal of yers favours you rather than us. You should know by now that that's not how it's going t' work," Red Eye said, trying to hide his confusion. He really needed to find out what that blasted box had been.

"Well, it's the deal. You can take it or leave it," the voice said.

"Alright, fine, ye've got yerself a deal. But it's conditional. I want t' see th' Autobot. He's of no use t' us if he's scrapped," Red Eye said.

"I'll have to talk to my superiors about that one. You'll have to stay here," the voice said.

"Fine," Red Eye said with a dramatic sigh of defeat. He could always renege on the deal later. In fact, he would.

٭٭٭

Argent stepped out of the wet corridor and made his way to the makeshift jail his people had created to house the two Autobots. The Decepticons would surely renege on the deal so he had to be sure that he got a working copy of the plans for himself. Once that was done he'd have the Engineer hollowed out and provide faulty plans to the 'Cons. By the time they realized they'd been had, he and his people would we well out of the sector.

He entered the jail and found Ratchet and Wheeljack sitting in their appointed cells, speaking together in quick, low voices. Wheeljack had his arm through the bars and was holding onto Ratchet's hand tightly. Ratchet was obviously trying to talk Wheeljack into something and the engineer was protesting.

"I won't have secrets here, gentlemechs," Argent said, approaching Wheeljack's cage. "Now, I believe I have made everything clear to you, Engineer. Have you made your decision?"

A quick and pained look passed between the two Autobots before Wheeljack sighed and stood up. "I won't give you the plans," he said. He sounded defeated.

"You're sure about that? You understand the consequences and you still are refusing to provide me with what I want?" Argent asked.

"We both understand quite well. And we're not letting you get the machine," Ratchet said defiantly, but there was a hint of fear at the edges of his voice.

Argent sighed. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I had really hoped that you two would be reasonable. After all, I'm not doing this for profit; I'm doing this so that my people can be safe."

"But we've offered you an alternative!" Wheeljack said, pleading. "Come with us to Iacon. You'll be able to stay neutral and you'll be safe for as long as we hold the sector!"

"Ah, but there's the flaw, Engineer," Argent said. "You Autobots are going to loose this war. And when you do, I want to be friendly with the winning side. Lord Megatron is not known for his compassion, but he also doesn't waste his resources against his allies."

"We won't loose the war. But if you're that worried about it we can get you and your people out on a refugee ship," Ratchet said.

"And end up like the Stormchaser? I don't think so," Argent asked. He stopped when he saw the pained look on Ratchet's face and added, "So you had someone on the Stormchaser did you? That actually explains an awful lot."

Argent motioned to his troops. "Take the medic out to the other room and introduce him to Slice. Let's see if we can't … persuade our good Engineer as to the error of his ways," he said.

Ratchet shot Wheeljack a determined look before allowing himself to be led out of the room.

"Now I want the rest of you to leave us alone," Argent said to the guards. "I would like to have a word in private with the Engineer. … Oh, and leave the door open."

Once they were alone Argent pulled up a chair and sat directly across from Wheeljack. He watched the engineer in silence for a long time, until Wheeljack began to fidget. Then, with a smile, he crossed his arms and leaned back casually.

"I understand that you have faction loyalty. And I can certainly understand why you don't want to give us those plans. However, Slice is very good at his job and he enjoys it greatly. He will make what's left of your friend's life very, very painful. So you have to ask who your loyalty really lies with," he said.

A scream echoed through the hall and Wheeljack flinched.

"I … No. I won't give you those plans. … And if you don't bring Ratchet back then I'll delete them from my memory core and you'll never get them."

"You're not very good at this are you?" Argent asked. "If you delete those files, then you and your friend are of no further use to us."

Another anguished scream rang out.

"But the Decpticons don't know what the plans are. I can help you create something that'll fool them. By they time they realize they've been had you and your people can be long gone!" Wheeljack said quickly, a desperation edging into his voice.

"My, my! You're not as bad at this as I thought. However, there's a problem with your logic," Argent said with a sly smile. "You see, I had intended on doing that all along, but I was also going to keep the real device for my own uses. So either way, I need those plans."

A third scream cut the silence, this one broken off by the static sound of a vocaliser shorting out.

"Ratchet!" Wheeljack screamed, throwing himself against the bars of his cell in a bid to escape.

"Oh, now that's a pity," Argent said, cocking his head to the side. "Slice always does prefer it when his _patients_ are able to sing."

"You're sick," Wheeljack whispered. "You're no better than the Decepticons."

"I never claimed that I was. You may call me sick, but I'm doing this to save my people. And they're more important to me than your pointless war of ideals. It doesn't matter which side wins because either way, Cybertron and her people loose," Argent said, his voice at cold as frozen steel.

He stood and moved to the hall. "Your precious medic will stay with Slice. Hopefully you'll change your mind soon. If not, then I'll make your regret your nobility for the rest of your short existence."

When Argent was out of site Wheeljack's legs gave out and he slipped to the ground. He needed to think of a way out of this before they killed Ratchet. He'd never be able to live with himself if he lost the medic, he couldn't imagine life without him …

"Alright, think, Jack. They want the plans and they'll kill Ratch if they don't get them," Wheeljack said to himself. "But if I give over the plans then … no, I can't. … I don't know what to do …"

٭٭٭

Back in the water filled corridor Red Eye cocked his head as his keep hearing picked up the faint sound of a scream, ringing out in the darkness.

"Slag," he muttered under his breath.

The two Autobots were useless to him dead, and it was obvious that the neutrals were trying to get the plans for themselves. He had two choices, he could bide his time and hope that he was granted access to the Neutrals' hive, or he could call in reinforcements. Before he could make his decision he heard the tell-tale scrape and splash of someone entering the tunnel.

"Terribly sorry to keep you waiting, Seeker," a voice said. This was different from the one before. There was the faintest trace of the Towers in the accent and a smoothness that wasn't in the other voice.

"Not a problem. Are ye the one in charge?" Red Eye asked.

"I'll be bringing you to see him and from there, the engineer," the voice said. "If you'd be so kind as to take ten steps forward, turn to your right 90 degrees and then take another 3 steps forward. There's a door with a bit of a step so be careful."

"Why don' ya just turn the lights on?" Red Eye asked.

"I'm afraid that that isn't an option in this scenario. Now please step forward. … If we wanted you dead Seeker, we wouldn't use such an obvious ploy," the voice said.

After another moment's hesitation, Red Eye did as he was told and quickly found himself in a wide dry corridor. A red and blue mech stepped into the hall after him and shut the door.

"If you'll be so kind as to follow me?" The mech motioned down the hallway, then walked away, pausing to ensure that Red Eye was following.

With a quick look around and a stretching of his wings, Red Eye moved down the hallway until he came to a large, circular, amphitheatre-like space.

"You'll have to excuse our lack of accommodations," the mech said. "It's a bit dusty and ragged around the edges, but you'll find the seats quite comfortable. I will return shortly with Argent. He'll explain everything to you."

The mech bowed slightly at the waist and turned to leave. As he did, Red Eye glimpsed the faintest touch of a smile, pulling at the corners of the mech's mouth.

"Hold on a second there," Red Eye said. "I'll be wanting to see the engineer now, if ye don' mind."

The mech turned and cocked his head to the side. "Of course you do," he said. Again there was that hint of a smile. "If you'll follow me, I'll gladly bring you to the detention area."

Red Eye was getting the firm impression that he was missing something very important.

"Sir, if we wanted you dead we would have done something well before now," the mech said smoothly, spreading his hands. "Besides, we all know the reputation of the Mighty Seekers. Personally I don't have a death wish and I doubt that anyone else here does either. And while Argent would prefer to meet with you first, if you wish to see the engineer, then I will be more than happy to bring you to him. After all, you are the one in charge."

"I definitely want to see the engineer first, and Argent afterwards," Red Eye said. There was still something wrong but he'd deal with whatever it was when it was sprung on him.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack paced his small cell. Three steps left. Turn. Three steps right. Turn. He had tried sitting quietly, but soon found his thoughts wandering to Ratchet and whatever was being done to him. He needed to think of a way out and he needed to do it quickly. The neutrals wanted the plans and wouldn't let them leave without getting them. He would have provided false plans, but after having suggested that to Argent, it would never work. Besides, there was no way that he could bluff his way out of this, and even if he could, Wheeljack was convinced that Argent wouldn't let either Autobot leave.

But what if he didn't bluff … what if he gave them exactly what they wanted. The matter converter was delicate under the best circumstances, and even then, it had blown up four times before Wheeljack had perfected it. Argent had asked for the plans to the device, but he had never said which version he wanted.

His thoughts were interrupted by voices drifting in from the hall.

"Now, is it simply the engineer that you want to see? Or would you like the medic as well?" Wheeljack quickly recognized Blue's voice.

"Th' engineer will do fer now, but I'll be wantin' t' see th' medic too. That can wait until after I've spoken t' Argent, though." Wheeljack froze as he recognized the voice of the black Seeker.

Blue entered the room first, followed closely by the Seeker. Wheeljack stepped back from the approaching Decepticon until he felt his back hit the wall and there was nowhere else to go. He glared at Blue and the Seeker, attempting to look defiant, but knowing that he was failing.

"As you can see, he's perfectly intact," Blue said. "I will admit that he's been a tad more stubborn than we had originally suspected, but we have people working on that as we speak."

A scream rang out and both Wheeljack and Red Eye jumped at the anguished sound.

"Ah, I see that Slice got the medic's vocaliser working again," Blue said, nonchalantly.

"Stop! Please, make him stop!" Wheeljack begged, staring out the door. "You've made your point! I'll give you the plans, just make him stop!"

"Well, truly you should be giving those plans to Argent, not me," Blue said, doubtfully. "I could bring you to see him, Sir, but by the time I get back, Slice may have inflicted irrevocable damage on the medic. …. And if I went to fetch the medic first, then I'd have to leave you alone, and I can't do that. You understand, right?" he added, turning to Red Eye.

"Of course. An' I don' imagine that ye can let me wander about yer base unattended either … So, why don' you have that guard outside escort me t' Argent? I can tell him th' good news and you haven't left me alone," Red Eye said, smoothly.

"I suppose that could be okay," Blue said. "Yes, in fact I think that's probably the best course of action."

He stepped out into the hall and brought back a small, powerfully build mech.

"I need you to escort this Seeker to Argent. The commander is waiting for him in his office," Blue instructed.

The new mech looked at the Seeker doubtfully and motioned for him to follow. Once both were out of the room, Blue turned to Wheeljack.

"We don't have long. I was supposed to bring the Seeker directly to Argent, and he won't be happy about the delay. I'll see what I can do about your friend, but you'd better make sure that those plans impress Argent, otherwise we'll all be scrapped," Blue said.

He quickly left the room, leaving Wheeljack completely confused.

٭٭٭

Ratchet struggled weakly against the bonds holding him to the medical palette. Slice had turned away from his inspection of Ratchet's insides for a moment, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the psychopath began his work again.

"There's very little point in fighting. You can't break the bonds and even if you could, you couldn't get out. So just sit back and let me finish my work," Slice said, without turning around.

Ratchet exhaled slowly, preparing to pull again against the restraints when he felt a light hand touch his arm. A blue and red mech stood there, the same mech who had escorted Wheeljack into the auditorium. He shook his head and the look on his face made Ratchet cease his efforts.

"Slice? Argent wants this one put back into his cage," the red and blue said.

"What? But I've only just started!" Slice said, a petulant whine tingeing his voice, a sneer etched on his pink and yellow face.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have the opportunity later. I seriously doubt that Argent will just let these two go. From what I've heard, this one is likely to be CMO within the vorn," the red and blue said, poking Ratchet painfully in the side.

"Hmmm …," Slice hummed, leaning in to look at Ratchet with his one good optic. "Hmmm … All the more reason to keep him here. Tell Argent that I know what's best. I'll return him once I'm done with this battery of tests."

"I think that Argent wants him back in his cell now." There was a dangerous edge to the red and blue's voice and Slice looked up sharply.

"Argent doesn't want him back at all, does he?" Slice asked, narrowing his optic. "I always knew you were a danger, Sm- ARGH!"

Slice's voice was cut off as the red and blue threw a small bead at his head. The bead exploded on impact, filling the air with a thick, choking fog. Ratchet felt his intakes begin to clog and he shook with silent, wracking coughs. He heard a crash and a sickening thud, then hands were moving over his body, removing the bindings, closing his chest, helping him to stand, and the next thing he knew, they were in the hall.

"I need you to come with me quickly," the red and blue said.

Ratchet opened his mouth to speak, but found himself quickly silenced by a light blue hand.

"Be quiet. No questions. And if anyone asks, Slice sent you back to your cell. Nod if you understand," the red and blue said.

Ratchet nodded and allowed himself to be led away from the psychotic's lab.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack sat in the corner of his cell, readying the plans that he was going to give his captors when Argent walked into the room, followed closely by the Seeker.

"So I hear that you've finally seen reason, Wheeljack," Argent said. "I was wondering if you were ever going to come around."

"I'll give you the plans, but please, you have to bring Ratchet back," Wheeljack pleaded.

"Are we back to this again?" Argent asked, exasperated. "You'll give us the plans, and then I'll consider returning the medic when Slice is done with his tests. This isn't a negotiation."

Wheeljack hung his head, looking as defeated as he could. He noticed as he did so that the Seeker looked amused by the whole thing.

"Fine," he said. "Give me a data pad and I'll give you the plans."

With a superior smile, Argent produced a data pad and handed it to the engineer. Wheeljack quickly uploaded the plans and handed it back.

"There, you have what you want, now let us go," he said.

Argent snorted indelicately. "Hardly. You and the medic will stay right here until we've built the device and confirmed that you aren't trying to pull something."

Wheeljack allowed himself to collapse in defeat as Argent and the Seeker left the room. He had known all along that they would never be set free, but his plans were complicated enough that he had bought them a few days. Now he just had to figure out how to get Ratchet back.

"Yes, I'm sure that Slice said he could come back," Blue's exasperated voice floated in from the hall. "Why else would I have him? Now are you going to let me in or not? He's heavy!"

"I think I should probably confirm this with Slice …," came the unsure voice of a guard.

"Slice took off to get his secret supplies," Blue said sarcastically, "and you know how long it takes him to get those. So are you going to make me stand here until he gets back or are you going to let me in?"

"Well, I guess it's okay," the guard said hesitantly.

The door to the jail opened and Blue stumbled in, Ratchet leaning weakly on his shoulder.

"Ratch!" Wheljack cried out.

"Shhh!" Blue hissed. He pressed a few buttons and the door to the cell came open.

As soon as he could Wheeljack jumped forward and took Ratchet, holding him close.

"You both have to get back into the cell," Blue said. "I can only spin this so far and if you try to escape now they'll kill you for sure."

"I … I understand, I think," Wheeljack said, leading Ratchet back into the cell and allowing Blue to relock it.

"I'll do my best to get you out, but you'll have to be a bit more patient," Blue said before walking out of the jail.

"Ratch? Ratch are you okay?" Wheeljack asked, looking into Ratchet's face, his fuel pump fluttering with fear.

"Yeah, I'll be okay, I think," Ratchet said, hoarsely.

"Thank Primus!" Wheeljack cried, sweeping Ratchet into a hug.

Ratchet froze for a moment, before returning the embrace.

٭٭٭

Red Eye followed Argent through the halls of the neutral hive, making note of the personnel, equipment, and layout. Argent's troops were well armed with the latest in Decepticon technology, likely taken from a recent shipment that had gone missing. It was obvious, though, that the mechs holding the weapons, didn't entirely know how to use them and were too under-fuelled to put up much of a fight.

Still, after watching Argent operate, he was sure that the neutral commander would not let him go willingly, and would have no problem using his own people as cannon fodder in a fight. Truthfully, Argent would have made a good Decepticon. It was a pity that his ego would likely not allow him to take a back seat to Megatron. The Supreme Commander did not allow dissent among the ranks, as many an arrogant Seeker had learned.

Red Eye continued to consider the best way to turn all this to his advantage, when he realized that Argent had stopped walking and was speaking to a lightly built red and blue mech.

"You will stay with Red Eye and provide him with everything he might need to make his stay comfortable," Argent said.

"Of course," the red and blue said, bowing slightly at the waist. "I will treat him as I would you, Commander."

"Good. I will have my people start working on this device. We'll let you know when it is close to completion," Argent said. Then, with a respectful nod, he turned and walked away.

"If you would care to follow me, Sir, I'll show you to the quarters we have prepared for you. We've set things up as best as we're able, but if there's anything else you need, please let me know, and I'll see what I can do."

This was perfect. This mech was obviously a toady, and an easily manipulated one at that.

"I will need t' check in with my command. Unfortunately, my communicator doesn't seem t' be workin'," Red Eye said. "Do ye think ye can help me out with that?"

"Oh, yes, of course," the mech said happily. "We have a field damper in place, but I can bring you to our communications room. You can get a message out from there."

"That would be wonderful. … Are ya sure that ye're allowed t' let me?" Red Eye asked.

"Of course. Argent did say that I was to treat you as I do him," the mech said.

"An' might ye be able to do me one more favour?" Red Eye asked.

"Anything! Just ask and I'll happily help you in any way I can!" the mech replied.

"I'll be needin' t' contact the rest of my Trine. Would ye be able t' show them in when they arrive?" Red Eye asked.

"I … well, I'm not sure," the mech said. "But I suppose that I wouldn't prevent Argent's friends from coming by, and he did tell me to treat you like him … But maybe I should ask him first …"

"Of course, go right ahead," Red Eye said smoothly. "I'm sure that Argent won't view that as questionin' his orders."

"I … oh, he might at that … Well, I guess that it would be okay," the mech said slowly. "Just let me know when they'll be arriving and I'll show them to your quarters."

"Perfect," Red Eye said with a smile. "By th' way, what should I be callin' ye now, lad?"

"Oh, people call me Blue," he said with a smile.

They walked through the base for a distance, with Blue happily giving a full guided tour. He proudly pointed out all the sights the base had to offer, making note of the labs, general quarters, and armoury. Red Eye took this all in quietly, all the while pitying Argent for having such a fool under his command.

"Well, here we are, Sir," Blue said, pointing out the communications room. "I've ensured that you can make your call in private. I'll stay out here and make sure that no one disturbs you." He turned away from the door, then turned back to face Red Eye. "You know, I'm glad I got to meet you, Sir. You're nothing like what Argent told me to expect."

"Oh, and what did he tell you to expect?" Red Eye said, amiably.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but he said that all Seekers were arrogant and easily fooled. You don't seem anything like that, Sir. I don't imagine that we'd ever be able to pull one over on you."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Red Eye said smugly. This peon was turning out to be even more stupid than he had originally thought. "You know, should you change your mind about neutrality, we could always use loyal mechs like you among the Decepticons." _As cannon fodder_, he added silently.

"Oh, I don't think that I could ever leave Argent, Sir. But I appreciate your confidence in me," Blue said, obviously preening at the perceived praise.

Red Eye hid his smirk and entered the communications room, closing the door behind him.

٭٭٭

Wheeljack stared at the door, absently stroking Ratchet's chevron with one hand as the medic slept, his head on Wheeljack's lap. He looked down at his friend in concern. It had been two days since he had come back from Slice, but his recharge cycle was still plagued with nightmares. It was obvious that every time he lay down to rest, he was back in Slice's lab, and he refused to tell Wheeljack what had happened there. It seemed that the only time that he was able to rest peacefully was when he was near Wheeljack, and that was tearing the engineer up inside.

Ratchet moaned slightly in his sleep, then his optics opened slowly. He looked at Wheeljack and smiled sleepily.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," Wheeljack replied, feeling his fuel pump flutter at the sight of that smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am now," Ratchet replied, sleepily. He reached up and stroked the side of Wheeljack's face, fingers coming to rest on a particularly sensitive bundle of nodes.

Wheeljack inhaled sharply, then relaxed, his hands beginning to move slowly over Ratchet's prone form. A voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him that this was wrong. He was taking advantage of his friend in his time of need, and he had to stop. But another portion, a much louder portion of his mind only cared that Ratchet shared his feelings, that he was finally able to be with this mech he had cared for secretly for so long.

Ratchet moaned softly as Wheeljack ran his hand over his chest, arching up into the touch slightly.

"Hmmmm … Arclight," Ratchet whispered.

Wheeljack pulled his hands back suddenly as if he had been burned. He felt like he had been slapped, like he had been punched in the chest.

"Ratch?" Wheeljack said with a catch in his vocaliser. "Ratch, you're dreaming, you have to wake up."

Ratchet opened his eyes, looked at Wheeljack in shock, and was across the small room in a single, panicked motion.

"What happened?" he asked, looking around the room.

"I … nothing. You were having another nightmare," Wheeljack said quietly, drawing his knees up against his chest and crossing his arms. "We, uhm, I still haven't figured out how to get out of here, and I haven't seen Blue for a while, so I don't know what's going on outside.

"And I guess your communicator still isn't working any better than mine is," Ratchet said, appearing to relax, but still staying away from Wheeljack.

"Nope, I think the Neutrals have some kind of a field damper in place around this sector," Wheeljack said, his vocaliser still catching painfully. "It would explain why this sector is so blind."

"Yeah, it would …," Ratchet replied, slowly. "So how much longer do you think it'll take them to build the matter converter?"

"If he's got skilled people here, then he could be done today or tomorrow," Wheeljack replied, uncomfortably aware of the awkwardness of the conversation.

"And then what?" Ratchet asked.

"I don't know. But I do know that they'll be in for a surprise if they try to turn it on," Wheeljack said with a blue-white smile lighting his head fins.

The smile faded away and he sighed miserably when he saw the preoccupied look in Ratchet's face.

٭٭٭

Blue moved silently through the halls making his way to Argent's office. Things were going exactly as he had planned, but these next few days would be the lynchpin in his plans. He had to be very careful in his juggling of the three Seekers and Argent. Any mistake at this point would result in his death, and worse for the two Autobots.

He'd often wondered to himself why he cared about these two. It wasn't as if he was an Autobot, or had any desire to join their cause. He argued that Argent had come completely unhinged and was a danger to himself and everyone else. This matter converter wouldn't change anything for the neutrals because Argent wasn't about to share the results with anyone. He had been with this commander for long enough to know that mechs were disposable to him, and that everything he did was to further his own cause, whatever that cause happened to be.

The Autobots were simply a tool, a means to an end. More than likely Argent was planning on using them and the converter to bargain a place within the Decepticon forces. By helping the Autobots, Blue was hindering Argent, nothing more. This was how he argued the point with himself, even though he knew that, in truth, he was intrigued with the engineer and his silly, pathetic admiration of the medic.

He arrived at Argent's office and shook his head to clear it. It was time to become simpering, toadying Blue, and he needed all his attention focused to pull off that role.

"Sir?" he called out, knocking gently on the door. "Sir, may I speak with you for a moment?

"Enter," Argent called.

Blue entered the room slowly, carefully, looking at the ground in deference to the great mech before him.

"Sir? I've done as you asked, but there may be some problems," he said softly.

"Problems?" Argent asked, not looking up from the data pads on his desk.

"Yes Sir. The Seeker has somehow found a way to contact his Trine and they've just arrived," Blue said, allowing a hint of fear to creep into his voice. "I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want the Seeker to be suspicious, so I let them in and brought them to his quarters."

"You did what?" Argent growled, looking up and glaring at Blue.

"I … I let them in? Should I not have? I'm sorry Sir, but you said that I should treat him like you so when he gave me an order I followed it, and I'm really sorry Sir!" Blue cried, shrinking away from the incensed commander.

Argent moved in quickly and towered over Blue. Blue leaned back against the shelves, cowering against the rage that was building; preparing himself for the strike that he knew was likely to come. It would hurt, but Blue was sure that Argent wouldn't kill him outright. Not yet anyway.

The strike never came. Instead, Argent stalked away and threw himself back in his chair.

"Well, it's done, and maybe I can use this to my advantage. Maybe I can salvage this situation, even through you're mistake may have slagged us all," Argent grumbled. "I want you to go back and make yourself available to them in any way they need. Convince them to talk and then report back to me."

"Uhm, Sir?" Blue said tentatively. "I already heard them talking. They're hoping that they'll be able to steal the device from you by sheer force. They plan to get you on their good side, and then when you aren't expecting it, they'll strike. I heard the whole thing, Sir!"

"Hmph. Do they honestly think that I'd be taken in by such an obvious ploy?" Argent snorted. "Those Seekers are more arrogant and stupid than I had originally thought. … Go do as I ordered and report anything else you find."

"Yes, Sir," Blue said with a slight sigh.

He moved slowly from the room and allowed the door to slide shut behind him. As soon as he was clear, he moved quickly down the hall. It was time for the troops to hear about how Argent was working with the Seekers and not against them as he claimed.

٭٭٭

Ratchet sat on the floor of the cell watching Wheeljack pace nervously.

"I suppose that we could try to get the guard in here and then overpower him …," Wheeljack said. "Or if I could borrow some of your tools I might be able to -." He broke off awkwardly as he looked at Ratchet.

"I don't think my tools can get through those bars," Ratchet said, avoiding Wheeljack's gaze.

Wheeljack looked at his friend for a long moment before turning away and leaning against the bars.

"Jack?" Ratchet said, a tentative note in his voice. "Jack, I'm sorry, I just-."

"Never mind," Wheeljack interrupted, trying to force his head fins to light up with something other than the grey of misery. "If we can't break out then we'll just have to go with plan A. I'll call in the guard, we'll get him to come in here and then we'll overpower him."

"Jack, I don't think that's going to work," Ratchet said. "And avoiding the-."

"Come on Ratch!" Wheeljack said, walking up to Ratchet. "He's small, and the space is tight, I'm sure between the two of us we could-."

Suddenly an explosion rocked the base, sending Wheeljack tumbling onto Ratchet's lap.

"What the frag is going on?" Ratchet whispered, helping Wheeljack to stand, the recent awkwardness forgotten.

"Argent's plan has backfired quite badly," Blue said, running into the room.

He pulled pressed a few buttons on the wall and released the gate of the cell.

"Come on!" he said. "I don't have long to get you two out of here."

"What? How do we know we can trust you?" Wheeljack asked.

"You don't. Maybe I got your friend away from Slice so that I could get the plans for myself. Or maybe I'm trying to help you," Blue said. "Either way you have to make a decision. Come with me or stay here. And if you stay here then either Argent or Red Eye's going to get you. It's your choice."

Blue opened the cell door then turned to leave.

"Come on," Ratchet croaked, grabbing Wheeljack's hand and pulling him along. "Anything's better than here."

They ran through the halls all but ignored by the panicked and fighting troops in the Neutral base.

"What's going on?" Wheeljack asked, as they were forced to duck around a corner to avoid laser fire.

"I told you, Argent's plan backfired," Blue said. "You're invention failed, and now everyone thinks that Argent betrayed them or has been killed."

"Yeah, but why are they fighting each other?" Ratchet asked.

"Who knows? Someone must have told them that the position of top mech is up for grabs," Blue said with a soft chuckle. "What you are seeing is a military coup of the worst kind."

"Yeah, but what happened to cause this?" Wheeljack asked. "It has to be more than my invention blowing up.

"It is," Blue replied, leading them through little used back corridors of the base. "It seems that Argent tried to turn the machine on without the Seekers present. They took offence and nearly had it out right there, but they managed to put their differences aside for the sake of unity and greed. When you're machine blew up, both sides though the other was to blame. Last I saw two of the Seekers and most of Argent's Elite Guard were down, and Argent and Red Eye were trying to rip each other's vocaliser out."

Blue's description of the events was punctuated by the sound of far away laser fire and the smell of a distant electrical fire.

"Just follow me and I'll get you safely to Autobot Headquarters," Blue said, opening a door to the sewers. "It'll be the long way around, but it's safer than the direct route. You just have to trust me."

With a look of misgiving, Ratchet and Wheeljack followed Blue into the sewers.

٭٭٭

In later recollections, neither Ratchet nor Wheeljack were able to fully remember the harried flight away from their captors. Blue led them on a forced march through subsurface passages that neither knew existed, and on the few occasions when they moved above, they were always in Decepticon territory. More than likely Argent was far too busy dealing with Red Eye and his Trine-mates to chase after them, but still, every time they stopped to rest, they were haunted by the sounds of pursuing feet.

Finally, after an exhausting flight, they arrived at Autobot HQ in Iacon. With a sigh of relief Ratchet and Wheeljack moved to enter the city, until they realized that their benefactor was remaining behind.

"Aren't you coming?" Wheeljack asked.

"Nope," said Blue. "I'm not quite sure I belong in there. I'm fully willing to help out, but I think I'm probably of more use out here."

"But what about Argent? He's still out there. We can keep you safe," Ratchet said.

"I think that Argent has his hands full with the Decepticons. I'm not too concerned about him," Blue said with an indelicate snort.

"Alright, fine. But if you change your mind let me know okay?" Wheeljack said.

"Will do," Blue said, then leaning close to Wheeljack he added in a whisper, "And if you ever get tired of waiting for the doc to come around, let me know. I'll be nearby." He stepped back and threw a mock salute to the Autobots then turned away.

"Hey, wait a minute," Wheeljack said. "We still don't know your name."

"I told you before, that information costs, and you can't afford it. Not yet anyway." He transformed and drove off into the ruins, masking his trail with a puff of smoke.

--Fin--

**Author's Note:** Thanks to the overwhelming response to Blue, I've decided to write this little A/N. The prequel adventures of Blue can be found in Chapter 4 of **28 Smokescreens**, the chapter, _Life's Lessons, aka Naive Smokescreen_, is the story of how Blue came to be working for Argent and his neutrals.


	8. It's a nice place to visit

**Title:** It's a nice place to visit ...

**Rating:** G

_**Disclaimer:**__ Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Summary:** Ratchet and Wheeljack contemplate Earth in the days after Megatron's defeat (takes place between _MTMTE_ and _Transport to Oblivion_).

* * *

"It's quite the place isn't it?" Wheeljack asked, sidling up to Ratchet as the medic stood in the door of the Ark looking out at the Oregon desert.

"Yeah, but it's just so … so …," Ratchet began, searching for the right word.

"Organic?" Wheeljack prompted.

"Yeah, organic," Ratchet replied. "It's actually kind of pretty, in its own way though."

"Yup," Wheeljack nodded. "It's not Cybertron, but it is nice.

"So how long does Prime figure we'll stay?" Ratchet asked.

"Well since the human governments are helping us out, and since the 'Cons were dealt with, he figures a few days, maybe seven, tops," Wheeljack replied.

"That's good," Ratchet said. "It is a beautiful planet, but just for a visit. I just don't think I could handle living here."


	9. Take a Chance on Me

**Take a Chance on Me**

_**Disclaimer:** Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

**Pairing(s):** Wheeljack/Smokescreen, Ratchet/Prowl

**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Slash

**Summary:** Sometimes, if we're not careful, we can miss what's been under our nose the whole time.

**Author's Note:** Written in response to Prompt 072 (Fixed) of the **fanfic100** challenge. Sequel to Just Friends? and Bad Day. I can honestly say that I'm not totally sure of this pairing, but my headspace characters tell me that this is how it is to be. So, enjoy! And, hopefully it isn't too cracked.

* * *

_You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair  
But I think you know, that I can't let go _

Oh you can take your time baby, I'm in no hurry, know I'm gonna get you  
You don't wanna hurt me, baby don't worry, I ain't gonna let you

-- ABBA "Take a Chance on Me" 

Wheeljack sat in the Oil Bar at a table by himself, drinking his mid-grade in silence. It wasn't that he wanted to be alone; far from it, but somehow it had worked out that way. All around him the bar was filling up with mechs coming off shift replacing those who were preparing to start theirs. Conversations rose and fell in a steady drone of white noise, with no one voice overpowering any other. Suddenly laughter rose above all the other voices as Jazz said something to Mirage, causing the spy to shift uncomfortably until Smokescreen clapped him on the back amicably and whispered something in his audio. After a moment Mirage joined in with the laughter, his rich tenor rising above the rest as Hound snaked a more-than-friendly arm around his waist.

Wheeljack ignored all of this. The other mechs, the noise, the laughter, even his own energon, dissolved away until all that he was aware of was the table on the other side of the bar. Ratchet and Prowl sat there, heads close together, speaking in quiet voices. Anyone else might have thought they were just in a simple discussion; just two colleagues, two senior officers, discussing the daily workings of the base. Wheeljack knew better though. He had known Ratchet long enough to recognize the signs. In recent weeks he'd become lighter, somehow. It wasn't obvious and nothing that Wheeljack could name directly, but it was still there. Of course, it helped that Wheeljack himself had helped to instrument that change. Everything dated back to that day when he had agreed to help Smokescreen fix the two of them up by trapping them in an enclosed space until they came to their senses and admitted their feelings for each other.

The ploy had worked like a charm, and now Ratchet was happy. But Wheeljack was finding himself unaccountably miserable. He had gotten over his infatuation vorns ago, but still, seeing them together caused his fuel tank to twist slightly.

"I am happy for him," Wheeljack said to himself like a mantra.

And he truly was. He and Ratchet were the best of friends and had been for vorns. He was thrilled that Ratchet had finally found someone who seemed to make him happy. Primus knew that the Ratchet deserved all the good things the world had to offer. He had denied himself for far too long, and it was good to see him doing something for himself for once. It had been so long since he had been with anyone; since well before they had left Cybertron, in fact. This new relationship with Prowl was a step in the right direction as far as Wheeljack was concerned. The two of them seemed to balance each other out nicely. Still, it was early in the relationship, so who knew how long things were going to last between them. Ratchet was life a flame. He burned hot and fast and intensely enough to outshine the sun sometimes. Prowl, on the other hand, always struck him more like liquid nitrogen; so cold and logical he could make the fuel in your system freeze with a glance if he wanted to. But, as different as they were, they seemed good together. Prowl seemed to make Ratchet happy, and that was all that mattered.

Wheeljack looked away from the couple and back to his energon, glaring into the pink depths of the cube, trying to control the roiling emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him; emotions that he had not felt for a long time. He had gotten over his crush well before they had left Cybertron and since then, he and Ratchet had been almost like brothers. It was a friendship he would never have traded for anything.

"I'm happy for him," he thought to himself. "I am happy for him."

"May I sit here?" a soft voice asked.

"I'm fine, thanks," Wheeljack murmured distractedly, not looking up from his energon.

"I'm sorry?"

Wheeljack looked up, startled to see Smokescreen standing there, a cube in his hand.

"Sorry, uhm, what was that?" Wheeljack asked.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the datsun repeated, touching the back of the empty chair with one blue finger.

"Uhm, yeah, sure. Go ahead," Wheeljack replied, turning back to his drink.

"It's surprisingly full in here tonight," Smokescreen said conversationally.

"Yup," Wheeljack replied, barely listening.

"I suppose I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, as the humans say," Smokescreen continued. "After all, everyone seems relaxed, so maybe that'll mean a bit of a better attitude around here."

"Uhn hunh," Wheeljack muttered, only looking up at his energon to glance over at Ratchet and Prowl.

Smokescreen sat silently, examining Wheeljack as the engineer pretended that he was just distracted. Finally, Smokescreen broached the obvious subject.

"They look good together," he said, inclining his head toward the far table.

"Yeah. … They do," Wheeljack replied sadly.

"Funny," Smokescreen said. "I would have figured you of all people would have been happy for him."

"What?" Wheeljack said, suddenly fully in tune with the conversation. "Of course I'm happy for him. He's my best friend. I want him to be happy."

"Of course you do," Smokescreen replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wheeljack said defensively.

"It doesn't mean anything except that I agree with you," Smokescreen shrugged. "It's about time that Ratchet stepped out a little. After all, I don't think that I've ever seen him with anyone."

"He hasn't been," Wheeljack said, more to his cube than to Smokescreen.

"That's surprising. I would have figured that I mech like him would have … Well, maybe not. He is rather private."

"He is," Wheeljack said.

"Still, I'd have figured that _someone_ would have made a move already," Smokescreen said with a pointed look at Wheeljack.

"I doubt he would have appreciated that," the engineer replied.

"It's been my experience that some mechs wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and bit them on the aft," Smokescreen said with a shrug.

"And sometimes it's not a question of not knowing. Sometimes it's just best to leave a good thing as it is," Wheljack grumbled.

"Is that why you've refused to do anything?"

Wheeljack looked up sharply at Smokescreen.

"What are you talking about?" he asked defensively.

"Look, Jack, I know you're friends and all, but I also know that … well, let's just say that I've always been very good at noticing what others refuse to look at," Smokescreen finished.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Wheeljack said to his cube.

Smokescreen took another sip of his energon then focused a piercing gaze on his tablemate.

"You can keep lying to yourself or you can do something," he said. "As I see it, you've got two choices. You can actually do something about this. You can tell him how you feel … _Don't_ say that you don't know what I'm talking about!" Smokescreen said sharply as Wheeljack started to protest.

When he was sure that Wheeljack wasn't going to interrupt again he continued, "As I said, you can tell him how you feel or you can get over this. Find someone else. Move on with your life and stop pining."

"I'm not pining," Wheeljack grumbled darkly.

"Oh really? And that's why you're sitting here all by yourself in a room full of other mechs?" Smokescreen said. "Some of whom would have no problem at all with you approaching them."

Wheeljack snorted indelicately and took a large swig of his energon. Then, after a moment he looked up at Smokescreen.

"The truth is, I'm not pining," he said softly. "The truth is, I'm over him. I mean, do you really think that I would have gone along with that scheme of yours if I wasn't?"

"Yes. I do," Smokescreen replied. "I think that you'd do anything to ensure his happiness. Even if it means that you're miserable."

Wheeljack looked up and seemed about to argue the point, but then dropped his head and stared into the bottom of his cube. He was silent for a long time, and Smokescreen didn't interrupt. He knew that the engineer would open up when he was ready. His patience was rewarded when Wheeljack looked up, his optics on Ratchet and Prowl.

"I am genuinely happy for him. I really am, and that's not me putting up a brave front," he said softly. "I'm just … I don't know … There's a portion of me that's … jealous." This last word was added in a whisper.

He looked back down into his cube and sighed.

"But I am happy for him, and I wouldn't change our relationship for the world," he continued, never looking up. "I do love him, but he's like a brother to me. I don't know what I'd do without him, but it's not … it's not what it was."

"So you've moved on then? You're going to stop waiting around and get on with your life?" Smokescreen asked.

"Yes. I have. And I will," Wheeljack said, looking up at the datsun.

"Good. It's about time," Smokescreen said. He tossed back his energon and stood up. "I hate seeing you miserable."

"Thanks, Smokescreen. I hadn't realized just how much I needed to talk to someone," Wheeljack said, looking less morose.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Smokescreen said as he walked away.

Wheeljack finished his energon and looked up to where Prowl and Ratchet were. He smiled slightly to himself and the couple stood and walked out of the Oil Bar. They weren't touching in any way, but everything about them said 'couple'. It really was good to see his old friend happy, he thought.

Suddenly he felt hands on his shoulder and lips brushing against his left audio light.

"Now that you're done waiting for the doc, remember that I'm still nearby," a soft voice said, the barest hint of the Towers in the accent.

Then, as quickly as they came, the hands were gone.

"Blue?" Wheeljack whispered, turning around to scan the room.

But Smokescreen was nowhere in sight.


	10. Trust the Numbers

**Trust the Numbers**

**Characters:** Ratchet, Prowl, mentions of Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** When Wheeljack is late returning from a mission, Ratchet waits, and gets a lesson in patience and faith from an unlikely source.

**Author's Notes:** Written from the promt Weeks (008) over at the LiveJournal FanfFic100 challenge.

_**Disclaimer:** Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

* * *

Ratchet stood at the door of the Iacon stronghold looking out at the devastation that had once been the greatest city on Cybertron. Now it was dull and broken after uncountable years of unrelenting war. And somewhere out in that ruin his best friend was making his way back to the relative safety of the base. At least he hoped that Wheeljack was heading back. He wasn't sure what the inventor was doing out there – the information had been classified beyond Ratchet's clearance. And ever since their disastrous near-capture a few months back, they had been separated and Wheeljack had been teamed up with a pair of Toughline twins. Ratchet didn't like it; didn't like them, in fact, but at least he knew that they wouldn't let anything happen to Wheeljack. Regardless of what the others said about the Twins' intents, Ratchet had no cause to doubt them; if for nothing more than the simple fact that he knew they hated the Decepticons more than they hated the Autobots. Also, they seemed to have developed a strange camaraderie for both Ratchet and Wheeljack. He wouldn't go so far as to call it affection, but there was an alliance there of some sort. And the twins were nothing if not loyal to their few allies. Still, the knowledge that the Toughlines were with Wheeljack and that they wouldn't let anything happen to him didn't dispel the worry Ratchet was feeling as he looked out over the barren landscape. 

"Ratchet, please step away from the doors," Prowl said as he stepped up behind the medic. "You are a target. There is an eighty-nine point two five percent chance that you would not be able to move in time to avoid a direct hit."

"Well that's an eleven percent chance that I could," Ratchet replied, never turning back to look at the Enforcer.

"It is only a ten point seven five percent chance. That is too slim a margin to take the risk. We do not have enough medics at our disposal for you to take foolish chances," Prowl said in that infuriatingly calm voice. He may as well have been talking about the latest meteorological forecast, for all the emotion he presented.

Ratchet continued to stare out at the city, doing his best to ignore Prowl. The strategist refused to take the hint, however, and remained hovering at the door.

"It is illogical for you to remain here," Prowl said. "Your presence will not increase the likelihood of their return. Nor will it expedite their mission."

"Not the point, Prowl," Ratchet replied with an exasperated sigh.

"Then what is the point?" Prowl asked. "Enlighten me."

"Look," Ratchet growled as he spun on the Enforcer, looming over the shorter mech. "I don't need this right now. They've been gone for two weeks now and I have no idea where they are or what they're doing."

"You are not cleared for that information," Prowl replied, showing no sign that he was in anyway ruffled by Ratchet's proximity.

Ratchet shook his head and made a disgusted sound, turning away from Prowl to lean against the door, continuing his vigil on the city below.

"Ratchet you have not yet provided me with an adequate explanation for this," Prowl said.

"I'm worried, okay?" Ratchet snapped. "He has been gone for far too long, and I am worried about him. Is _that_ and adequate explanation for you?"

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will not knowingly allow anything to happen to Wheeljack," Prowl replied. "I have endeavoured to take every possibility into my equations. With the Twins guarding him there is only an eight point four five percent chance that Wheeljack will not return successfully."

Ratchet snorted disdainfully. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Prowl turned to the medic and cocked his head to the side. A confused look passed across his face plate as he processed the question.

"Does it not alleviate your fears?" he asked.

"No. It doesn't," Ratchet spat. "Believe it or not Prowl, it doesn't all come down to numbers. These are real people and you can't just-." He broke off and shook his head angrily. "Look, you can throw as many numbers at me as you like, but it won't change the fact there we are talking about real people who are out there right now. Maybe they're on their way back here or maybe they're fighting for their lives. They're not predictable algorithms. They won't act in a specific way just because your numbers say they should."

Prowl came to stand next to him in the doorway and stared out into the ruined city beyond. For a long time he was silent, only the occasional twitch of his wings betraying the thoughts rolling through his processor as he calculated his next action.

"Ratchet, you intend to remain here until Wheeljack returns. Is that a correct assertion?" he asked.

"Unless I'm called away or my shift starts," Ratchet replied. "Or I learn something that makes me believe that he'll be all right and back soon."

"I see," Prowl replied. "And am I wrong in the assertion that you are a somewhat religious mech?"

Ratchet shrugged at that. "As religious as any surgeon can be. I've seen enough apparent miracles in my time that I won't discount the possibility that's there's more out there than us."

"And do you trust that I would not knowingly put Wheeljack in danger?" Prowl asked.

Ratchet turned and eyed the tactician carefully.

"Honestly?" he asked.

"Please," Prowl prompted.

Ratchet pursed his lips for a moment before speaking, obviously choosing his words carefully.

"The truth is that I wouldn't put it past you to sacrifice a mech or two if it meant winning a battle. … But at the same time, I know you wouldn't have sent Jack if you hadn't needed him wherever he is, and I know you aren't likely to sacrifice our Chief Engineer."

"I would not do so without good reason," Prowl agreed.

"What's the point, Prowl?" Ratchet asked, his exhaustion and tension showing in his tone. "I mean I'm sure you have a point in asking me these questions."

"I do. I would ask that you have faith in your friend and in his guardians," Prowl said, a slight shade of distaste colouring his tone as he mentioned faith. "And I ask that you trust my numbers when I tell you that there is a ninety-five point three six percent chance that they will be returning here, mostly unharmed, before the day is out."

Ratchet turned to Prowl, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Did you just provide me with classified information?" he asked.

"No," Prowl replied. "I provided you with the number that would pull you away from the door and into the safety of the base. What you make of that number is up to you."

With that, Prowl turned away and headed back into the base proper. Ratchet watched him leave, shaking his head in disbelief. He took one last look at the city before turning away with a sigh. Ninety-five percent wasn't the hundred he was hoping for, but Prowl was right. He just had to have faith in his friends and the numbers.


	11. Friendly Advice

**Friendly Advice**

**Rating:** PG

**Characters:** Ratchet, Wheeljack, Jazz, Bumblebee. Mentions of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

**Summary:** Ratchet has only just joined the Autobots and has some doubts until he gets some advice from his new comrades.

**Warnings:** Just some minor transformer-style profanity.

**Author's Note:** This fic takes place shortly after Regrets.

_**Disclaimer:** Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and DreamWorks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work._

* * *

Ratchet walked into the commissary, forced his way past the crowds of mechs, and worked his way up to the dispenser. Taking his daily ration, he turned and looked out over the room, searching for a familiar face. It didn't take long for him to find the familiar white shape of Wheeljack sitting at a small table near the edge of the room, apparently deep in conversation with two mechs he didn't recognize. One was a bright yellow mini-bot, while the other was a black-and-white Interceptor. Looking up, Wheeljack spotted Ratchet and waved him over, pulling over an empty chair. After several moments of elbowing his way through, Ratchet made it to the table and sat heavily, letting out a grateful sigh as he did so.

"Long day?" Wheeljack asked sympathetically.

"You have no idea," Ratchet replied. "I had the unparalleled joy of meeting those Toughline twins today."

"Yeah, they can be a handful," the Interceptor said. "I'm guessin' that Lifestream pawned them off on you t' fix?"

"You got it," Ratchet grumbled. "And for my efforts the yellow one amused himself by trying to rip my head off when I went to fix the red one."

"Not surpisin'. Sunstreaker's a bit overprotective of his brother. I'm Jazz by the way. An' this here's Bumblebee."

"Ratchet," the medic replied with a nod. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, so you're Ratchet," Bumblebee said knowingly. "Yeah, we've heard a lot about you-ouch! Why'd you kick me?" he demanded, glaring at Jazz angrily.

"Did I? Sorry, 'bout that," Jazz replied, sounding not in the least bit sorry. "So, yeah, as I was sayin' Sunstreaker gets a bit single-minded when it comes to his twin."

Ratchet looked at the two mechs in confusion, but shook it off quickly. Whatever their problem was, it wasn't any of his business.

"Single-minded? Yeah, that's an understatement if I ever heard one," Ratchet snorted. He took a sip of his energon and made a disgusted face as he swallowed the pink liquid. "You'd think that after a month I'd be used to this swill," he grumbled.

"Hey, it keeps us functional. And it could be worse," Bumblebee replied, his good humour returned. "It could be that stuff Wheeljack tried to brew last week."

"Hey, it may not have been drinkable but it did make a damn fine solvent!" Wheeljack replied, defending his latest creation.

"Never look a gift square, eh?" Jazz chuckled, his visor brightening in amusement.

Ratchet shook his head and laughed. "Why am I not surprised that military life hasn't changed you any?"

"Oh come on, it's not like I've been here much longer than you have and army life hasn't changed you any," Wheeljack replied. "From what I heard you didn't let a bit of bad fuel get in the way of fixing your patient. And that sounds like classic Ratchet to me."

Ratchet shrugged and looked almost embarrassed. "Sunstreaker never actually hurt me, and since no one else was going to step up, what was I supposed to do?"

Wheeljack, Jazz, and Bumblebee shared a knowing look and for a moment, Ratchet felt like he was being left out of something very important.

"So, tell me something," he asked, breaking the strange silence at the table. "Are those two always like that?"

"Yeah, unfortunately they are," Bumblebee replied. "The thing is, I think they've been given the short end of the cable for a long time. You can't really blame them for being a bit hostile."

Ratchet's optics widened and he nearly choked on his energon at Bumblebee's comment.

"A little hostile?" he asked, his indignation at being attacked returning full force. "You call nearly ripping my slotting head off 'a little hostile'? I wasn't being metaphorical. He got me in a headlock!"

"Yeah, an' I heard you handled yourself just fine against him," Jazz replied. "The way I hear it you had him on the ground an' gaspin' almost as soon as he laid his hands on you."

"Hmph … Not the point," Ratchet growled. "Remind me again why I let you talk me into joining this mad house, Jack?"

"Oh come on, you know you've loved every minute of it. Who needs a boring old teaching hospital when you've got all this," Wheeljack laughed as he motioned vaguely to the commissary.

"Oh yes, sharing quarters that are too small for one mech let alone two, working far more shifts straight than anyone ever should, and drinking energon that's just this side of solvent. What more could I want?" Ratchet asked sarcastically. "It reminds me of being back in med school."

"See! There you go! Everything you could possibly want!" Bumblebee grinned.

"Seriously though, you don't regret your choice do you?" Wheeljack asked, as he placed a companionable hand on Ratchet's shoulder. "I mean, Prime wasn't kidding when he said that we need you and-"

"And it's not like I can go back, right?" Ratchet interrupted. He looked down into his drink and sighed. "No, I don't regret it, I just ... it's a big change, that's all."

"Hey, Ratchet, can I give you some advice?" Jazz asked.

"Sure," Ratchet replied, looking up at the Interceptor's inscrutable visor.

"Just go with it," Jazz said. "It may not make much sense now, but it will. I've found that if you just let life take you where yer supposed t' be it's easier than fightin' the waves."

Bumblebee nodded in agreement. "Trust us, Prime and Prowl wouldn't have asked you to join if they didn't think you could handle it."

"Besides," Jazz said with a wicked grin. "It's only been a month. You ain't seen nothin' yet!"


End file.
